


Vädring av klagomål

by missdibley



Series: East Of The Sun, West Of The Moon [25]
Category: British Actor RPF, Suburban Shootout, The Night Manager (TV) RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, Wallander (UK TV), Wallander (UK TV) RPF, Wallander - All Media Types
Genre: Boxing Day, Christmas, F/M, Festivus, Fluff, Foreplay, Texting, hygge, wallander - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 07:42:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9113218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: A middle aged Magnus, his wife Halla, and their two children, head home to Sweden to visit his parents for Christmas.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another Magnus story, but also a Maggy story, told out of order in their timelines.

**The Winter Solstice**

The night of the winter solstice was the shortest, but for Magnus Martinsson it was the sweetest. He and his little family always arrived on that day, landing at the airport in Copenhagen where his parents would be waiting to pile them all into a hired van for the hour-long drive back to Ystad.

Once home, his mother would ply them with sandwiches and hot tea, then send Magnus, his father, and his son out to search for then cut down their Christmas tree. It was Karin’s opinion that nothing beat jet lag like fresh air and exercise, so that when they all fell into their beds that night, they would all have good sleep.

When Magnus was a boy, the cottage behind his parents’ home was little more than a uninsulated shed with a rough brick floor. It was an ideal playhouse, where he could retreat with his friends when they needed space to play but Karin could still hear the sound of them laughing and shouting through her kitchen window.

The summer he was thirteen, Magnus and his father Anders converted the cottage into a proper dwelling. Father taught son to frame walls and do basic wiring. They both watched and took notes when a contractor friend arrived to build out the bathroom then clean and seal the brick floor. It was meant to be guest accommodation for visiting relatives but by the time Magnus started high school, the cottage was his lair exclusively.

His daughter and son, Maggy and Håkan, thought the cottage was quaint, with its photos of their father as a young boy (“Dad! You were so chubby!”) and awards from school, university, and the police academy (“Daddy, you were such a nerd!”). But while the cottage was charming and quaint, _farfar_ and _farmor’s_ house had cable television, wi-fi, and a fully stocked kitchen. So Maggy and Håkan were doted upon by their grandparents in the main house, and their parents Magnus and Halla had the cottage to themselves.

It was decorated by his mother in anticipation of their annual visit. Lingonberry branches framed the windows, and straw wreaths bound with red ribbons hung from all the door knobs. Small wooden horses, carved by Anders for Magnus when he was a baby, could be found on the nightstand, the bookshelves, and even on the sink in the bathroom. It was kept warm by a pot belly gas stove that at the moment was drying their wool socks and long underwear. It was there that Magnus found his pajamas, folded and waiting for him to slip into.

But for all the delights in the room, it was nothing compared to the sight of his wife curled up in bed, almost lost in the layers of blankets and duvets and pillows. He crawled in, sighing with relief when he found her scribbling in a small white notebook. Halla put the notebook away when Magnus curled up beside her.

She laughed at him. “Magnus, you’ve still got pine needles in your hair.”

“My mother said they made me look handsome.”

“I’m sure she did!” Halla laughed good-naturedly before kissing his brow.

“You writing again?” Magnus asked. “The notebook.”

“Yeah. I think so. I mean,” She kissed him again. “I think my writer’s block is gone.”

“The writer’s block that disappeared as soon as a certain English actor ended his summertime romance with a certain American pop star?” Magnus arched an eyebrow at Halla, which she decided to ignore.

“I was taking a break, anyway.” Halla sounded unconvincing. “We had a busy summer, what with the travel and all.”

“Practically the same trip we take every summer for the last fifteen years. It plans itself, doesn’t it?”

“Ha! You’d like to think that.” Halla sounded haughty. “Somebody has to check we all have valid passports, make sure we don’t get split up during any of our flights. Make sure the house sitter knows where Moomin’s treats are kept. Laundry! And don’t forget, baby, we went to Scotland between the week here and the week with Helen and Oakley. A whole new country to plan for!”

“You’re overcompensating in this interrogation, Ms. Roque.” When Halla shook her head, he grunted. “Remember, you’re under oath!”

“Am I, Detective Snuggums?”

The saucy look on Halla’s face was soon replaced by a delighted smile when her husband flung the covers back and got up. Straddling her at the waist, Magnus began to tickle her. Halla tried not to give in, but as she was very ticklish, the room was soon filled with her laughter.

“Remember, anything you say here can…” Magnus leaned down and nipped at her jaw. “Can and will be used against you.” He groaned when Halla rolled her hips beneath him.

“I’m counting on it, sir.”

When Magnus sat up, Halla took a moment to regard her husband in the dim light of the bedside lamp. With his eyes shining and his chest heaving after laughing, he looked boyish and ready to play.

“So you admit your writer’s block has cleared,” teased Magnus.

“I do, Detective.” Halla shrugged, which made the strap of her nightgown slip down her right shoulder. She was pleased when his eye caught it, and his cheeks flushed pink.

“This affliction which coincided with the start of an alleged romance between Mr. Longfellow and Miss…” Magnus wrinkled his nose.

“Correlation does not imply causation.” She wiggled, and the strap slipped down further, dragging down the neckline so that the hardened tip of her nipple was nearly exposed.

Magnus licked his lips. “Halla, you write, or you did write, fan fiction about this fellow.”

“Uh huh.”

“And now you’re writing again.”

“I suppose so.”

“So is it fair to say that the contents of that little white notebook there might have something to do with Mr. Longfellow?”

“I refuse to answer the question, Detective.” Halla purred.

“Oh,” Magnus growled in reply. “But I insist.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” Halla shivered when Magnus leaned down and kissed the crook of her neck. “I mean…”

“Is there something else you can give me instead?” He kissed her shoulder.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I think there might be.”

Halla gasped when Magnus pulled the errant strap down, thus exposing the breast for his soft mouth to kiss. She tugged on his curls, moaning when he began to lick at the hardened tip.

“Oh… oh my…” Her breath left her in short, ragged gasps, for Magnus’s hands had gently parted her legs so he could begin to tease her sex with his nimble fingers. “Oh Samuel…”

Magnus nipped at her throat. _“Käraste,”_ he hissed.

“Oh, Magnus.” She sought out his lips, and kissed him deeply. “Oh my love.”

* * *

 **Festivus**   

> _When Samuel Longfellow caught sight of his old love, Carina de la Salle, coming down the stairs into the lobby of The Connaught, his heart began to pound in his chest. He had spent the last 24 hours travelling to get to her, crossing oceans and time zones, in a valiant attempt to undo what had been done, unbreak what had been broken. He still loved her, he always would, but would that be enough? Could she love him again?_
> 
> _When at last she saw him, Carina’s dark eyes widening behind the delicate veil that covered her dark hair and heart-shaped face, he wondered no more. There may have been tears in her eyes, but the unabashed smile told him plainly._
> 
> _“Asshole!” Her yell pierced the pristine quiet, and startled a few guests that were heading into the reception room where a memorial service for a distant relative of hers was taking place. She waited for him to cross the room and take her in his arms before she spoke again._
> 
> _“I knew you’d be back.” Closing her eyes, Carina accepted the kiss he pressed to her lips. “I hate you.”_
> 
> _“I love you.”_
> 
> _“Really? Leaving me to engage in a showmance with an overgrown teenager for a chance to play James Blergh is a hell of a way to show it.”_
> 
> _“I know. I fucked up,” Samuel admitted._
> 
> _“You did,” Carina whispered. She kissed his cheek. “So you’ll need some time to make it up to me then.”_
> 
> _“How much time, Butternut?”_
> 
> _“How much time do you have, Bunny?”_
> 
> _“The rest of our lives?” Samuel’s hope was rewarded with another kiss._
> 
> _“That’s a start,” Carina murmured. “That’s a fucking start.”_

“What are you writing?”

Halla looked up to find her sixteen year old daughter Maggy eating a piece of gingerbread. She closed her laptop, set it on the coffee table, then popped up from the squashy couch where she had been relaxing, and kissed Maggy on the forehead.

“Nothing,” Halla said airily. She eyed the gingerbread. “Is there anymore of that?”

Daughter followed mother from the living room into a bright kitchen, where Halla’s mother-in-law Karin had left a carafe of hot coffee on the table next to a few mugs, sugar, and a covered dish of gingerbread cookies decorated to look like dala horses. Halla helped herself to coffee and a cookie, settling in the window seat. When Maggy joined her, Karin’s cat Mimir appeared, seemingly out of nowhere to snuggle between the two of them and wait hopefully for a few stray crumbs.

“Ma.” Maggy watched Halla wrap her hands around her mug and take a cautious sip.

“Why didn’t you go with Daddy and _farfar_? They took Håkan ice skating.”

"Nanny asked me to go to town with her, do some last-minute shopping.”

Halla nodded. “Where is your grandmother now?”

“Upstairs, putting on a different Christmas sweater. And stop changing the subject.”

“Who's changing the subject?” Halla tried to look innocent.

“You are!” Maggy smirked. “Are you writing one of your dirty stories again?”

"They’re love stories, Maggy.” Halla scratched Mimir between his ears.

“With explicit fucking, Mother!”

Halla sighed. “Language, please.” She pointed at the ceiling. “Nanny might hear you.”

Maggy took another piece of gingerbread and shot her mother a smug look. “But you don’t deny it.”

“No, I don’t.”

“And you’re not mad at me for finding it in the first place?” Maggy asked.

“Not exactly, but do I love that you went snooping on my computer when you said you were just looking for something on Wikipedia? I do not.” Halla sipped at her coffee again.

“Ma, if you didn’t want me to read it, you shouldn’t have had it open in your browser.”

“What? It was an accident. I forgot and besides,” Halla shook her head. “I’m okay with it now.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her daughter’s ear. “If I have to accept that you’re growing up, that you’re going to have more questions…”

“Mom,” warned Maggy, her cheeks getting red.

“Then you may have to deal with the fact that I do write the kind of love stories that are only for grown-ups.”

“Love stories that I’ll be able to read when I turn 18,” Maggy sang. “In 15 months!”

“Don’t remind me!” Halla cried.

“And anyway, that’s a false equivalence,” said Maggy with a roll of her eyes. “Your dirty stories and my growing up do not balance each other out.”

“It is not a false equivalence, Magnolia Bettina.” Halla smiled when Mimir wriggled onto his back so he could have his tummy rubbed. “I never said that it was.”

“Then what is it, Mom?” Maggy took a gingerbread horse and split it in half, offering one of the pieces to Halla.

“It’s like I said, darling daughter.” Halla searched Maggy’s face which, in the afternoon light, looked so grown and so young at the same time. “I just need to be reminded that you’re still in the process of becoming a woman.”

“Just as I need to remember that you’re not just my mother, right?”

“Something like that. Only make it sound less like this is a romance novel.”

“That’s ironic, considering you write romance.” Maggy frowned. “Wait, are you going to use this…?”

“Maggy, hush.” Halla closed her eyes, then tapped her temple with her index finger. “I’m thinking."

* * *

**Boxing Day**

<my mother is so embarrassing>

_happy boxing day bill_

<she made a slideshow of all the pictures i sent her from kenya>

_why_

<she wanted to pay tribute to all my important work on behalf of the african people>

_wut_

<i was just digging wells - playing footy with the kids>

_does she know there were other people there working_

<she thinks the villagers were helping me not the other way around>

_save us lord bill_

<thats not the worst part>

<there was music>

_no_

<she used that song>

<from the lion king>

_bwahahahahahahahahaha_

<circle of life>

_amazing_

<sorry im going on>

<how was urs>

_good_

_grandparents asked about you_

<oh?>

_mum said she liked you_

<dad?>

_just grunted then ate more cake_

<uh oh>

_its fine_

<u sure hes ok about next week?>

_u visiting while im in london w/ aunt, uncle_

<y>

_he is_

<sure?>

_bill?_

<y?>

<?>

_never mind_

<happy christmas>

_merry christmas bill_

<maggy?>

_y?_

<never mind>

_fine :)_

<see you next week>

_yes_

<good night>

_night_


End file.
